The Search ➳ Merthur

chapter twelve

I'm not mentally prepared for this??? so much shit is about to go down

DuN DUN DUNNNNN it's a ride of fluff and angst and everything in between get ready

this gets to the edge of a mature rating just so you know

oh and really, really, really cliché.

-

"Merlin!" Lancelot hollered for him from outside his door, banging his fist into the wooden door. He was finished with all of Merlin's frolicking around with the king, as if he wasn't endangering his life in each second he spent with the man. If Merlin didn't end his relationship with the king soon, he would take it into his own hands and break the king's heart himself. Lancelot didn't want to be the instigator, but it had to be done. Merlin was worth too much to be killed, even if the king did love him; he had no empathy for a sorcerer.

Lancelot went to enter, assuming the door was unlocked, only to be faced with the fact that it wouldn't budge. He tried several times to push at it, but he knew his attempts were in vain when it stayed put. Groaning, he slammed his fist on the door as hard as he could, making a ruckus so Merlin would be forced to open the door.

"Merlin!" He exclaimed, "I know you're in there! I'll stand here all day if I have to!"

"I hope you enjoy that!" Lancelot heard from the other side of the door. He groaned again, about ready to slam the door down with another pound of his fist. It seemed Merlin wanted to avoid confrontation as much as possible, and Lancelot understood why, he just didn't understand why Merlin would jeopardize himself in the first place. Being romantically involved with the prince was not safe for him.

He sighed, knowing Merlin was stubborn enough to refuse him all day. If there was no way he was getting in, there was no reason to stand in front of his door for the duration of the day. He turned to leave, but as he did, the lock in the door clicked, and then Merlin was opening the door and looking at him with a blank look on his face. It morphed into something akin to sadness, but not in its entirety, as he motioned for Lancelot to come in.

Entering, Lancelot shut the door behind him, and took a seat at the table by the fire. Merlin sat across from him and sighed, rubbing at his eyes and looking purely exhausted. Lancelot knew that Merlin had been busy recently, with his job for Gaius, balancing his relationship with the king, and trying to hide his magic on top of it all. He had rarely come to the tavern when they'd invited him, and Lancelot had been told by Gwen that she'd rarely seen him at all in the past few weeks. When she had, he always claimed he would catch up later, before resuming whatever he had been doing. It only made Lancelot worry for him more.

"I'm sorry." Lancelot said, sighing. He didn't want his friend to despise him, and he knew that all the pushing him to end a relationship he was clearly very happy in was not the right way to go about it. He just couldn't help it, because how was Merlin supposed to protect himself from someone he loved? If the king found out about his magic, Merlin would be helpless against him, with his love preventing him from harming the king. It was better if he would just let the relationship end.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, you're just looking out for me." Merlin replied. "I suppose it is my fault in the first place." He had known from the beginning that involving himself with the king would end badly. At this point, he was tired. Hiding his magic had become increasingly difficult, and Arthur had been continuously trying to become more intimate. Shutting his own eyes and trying to avert his king's attentions elsewhere—to prevent him from feeling the magic beneath Merlin's skin and seeing the gold in his eyes—was becoming more arduous by the day.